


All Lives, All Hearts

by Shi_Toyu



Series: Sherlock Character Studies [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Lack of support system, Loss of Child, Sad things happen!, loss of partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft Holmes told his brother that sentiment was a defect found in the losing side, he was speaking from experience. He didn't want his brother to go through the same pain that Mycroft himself had gone through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Lives, All Hearts

Mycroft Holmes was born with incredible intelligence, greater even than that of his brother. He was not, however, born as cold as he grew up to be. No, that was a process, a shell cultivated over time. It was a shell cultivated to protect himself.

By the time Mycroft started primary school, he had already shown a remarkable gift for math and science. He blew through any material his teachers gave him with astounding ease. Both of his parents loved him dearly and wanted him to have a normal life so they made the decision to keep him with the other students his age as opposed to moving him up through the school system.

Because of this, Mycroft found his peers incredibly dull. School became a thing that dragged on forever and the boy hated it for different reasons than most children did. It didn't take long for his teachers to give up on keeping him interested in class and he could be found teaching himself things in the back more often than not. He could not understand the dullness of the students around him, how they could not process things the same way he did, and it soon drove a wedge between himself and the other students.

Mycroft became the target of ruthless bullying by the time he was in his third year. His classmates could not understand his intelligence and he could not understand their lack of it. It didn't help that he had a taste for sweets and was heavier than most of his peers as well. His weight became constant ammunition to those who would mock him.

The taunting and name calling was eventually followed by pushing and shoving, as was prone to happen in these types of situations. The young, pudgy boy refused to tell his teachers what was going on and flat out lied to his parents. He refused to admit defeat in the face of his tormentors and running to an adult was certainly admitting defeat.

Hatred for his peers began to grow inside him, festering with every name and shove. Each time a new scrape was added to his elbow, he would think of how he would destroy these fools that thought themselves better than him. He would wait, and bide his time, and when he struck it would be devastating. In fact, the life of Mycroft Holmes could have taken a much, much darker path if it weren't for the birth of his little brother.

When his mother had first gotten pregnant, Mycroft knew exactly what it meant. There was no speech about where babies came from or awkward dance around to hide the truth. Within a week Mycroft knew more about the whole thing than his parents did. Still, he found himself only feeling annoyed at the prospect of another dull being coming into the world, especially one he would have to put up with so often.

Then came the day the baby was born. Mycroft sat out in the hall, listening to the doctors and nurses and picking up medical knowledge that was dropped around so he didn't have to pay attention to his mother's screams. His knuckles were white where they gripped the cheap, plastic chair that he sat in. More than anything he wanted to be back home with his advanced calculus book and the comfy chair in the living room.

After what felt like hours the noises coming from his mother's room quieted and Mycroft could just barely make out the sounds of a crying baby. After a few minutes the door to the room slid open and Mycroft's father stepped out, a tiny bundle held delicately in his arms. Despite his protesting, the boy's father passed the bundle over saying that he needed to hold his brother.

The moment Mycroft had caught sight of his brother's tiny face his arms wrapped around the bundle and he pulled the babe close. His eyes were riveted on the tiny grey ones as his little brother gurgled happily. Above them, their father beamed before informing Mycroft that the parents hadn't yet decided on a name and asking if he had any suggestions. His response of, "Sherlock," was immediate.

Mycroft became nearly inseparable from his brother after that. He would race home from school every day to see to the tiny boy's needs. He would carry the baby around for hours, reading aloud to him from textbooks and medical journals, which their parents seemed to find endlessly endearing. In turn, baby Sherlock seemed to love his older brother's attention. More often than not his crying would not cease until he saw the older boy's face and was securely in his arms.

Unfortunately, as is want to happen when stories of great men become a bit too idealistic, the dark cloud of misfortune was not done hovering over Mycroft's life. His mother fell ill due to complications with the birth. Most days she was fine, able to keep up with the housework and the boys, but some days she was so sick she couldn't even drag herself out of bed. She never did return to work after her second child as planned.

Later on in the life of the Holmes brothers, almost everyone would believe they came from a well-off family. Many would say that a person could only become so snobbish by being born into money. But that was not the case. Their father soon had to take up a second job to cover the expenses of their growing family.

The extended hours away from home and his mother's illness meant that much of the time Sherlock's caretaking needs were left in the hands of his older brother. Mycroft did not mind the responsibility, something he told his father every time the older man apologized for not being there for his sons as often as he would like to be. The family got by, and that was what was important.

With so much going on at home, Mycroft had little time to worry about his school life. He did his work and whatever extra-credit options his teachers gave and minded his own business. For all intents and purposes, he faded into the background, an alternative he found far preferable to the bullying he'd experienced for so many years.

When Mycroft was 15 and little Sherlock just three, their father got a promotion at work that required the family move an hour's drive away, further toward the city. Suddenly Mycroft's peer group had doubled in size and there was no familiarity with anyone. The comfortable rut he'd made for himself was gone in every sense of the word.

His first day at the new school, Mycroft was all but accosted in the hallway by a girl three years his senior. It was her last year in school before going off to Uni and she was Captain of the Student Government Club. She was determined to make it the club's best year ever and Mycroft absolutely had to join. It wasn't optional.

The girl's name, Mycroft learned, was Abigail. She convinced the new kid to join the club despite his reservations and, for the first time in his life, Mycroft found himself among people who listened to his opinions and respected him for his insight instead of mocking him. By the end of the week he'd decided that politics was what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. By the end of the year, he was in line to take over as club Captain.

Abigail graduated and went off to university and Mycroft took over for running the club. They didn't meet again until almost seven years later, both having graduated with Master's degrees and ending up in the same government office for their internships. Mycroft had grown, filled out his boyish features, and he was finally of an age where girls actually interested him. It was Abigail who asked him out for drinks, of course, but he readily agreed.

They hit it off, sharing inside jokes from high school and connecting on a level that Mycroft never had before. He was sure he'd found the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Sherlock was going through some trouble at home, though, so he didn't share the news of his relationship with his family. Apparently Mycroft's younger brother had fallen in with the wrong crowd and been arrested for possession of drugs. He and Abigail had been together for over a year when Mycroft took a week to go back home and have a talk with Sherlock.

When he came back to the flat he shared with his lover, she was sitting at the kitchen table with a huge smile on her face. She was pregnant. They were having a baby. Mycroft had never before been so happy. It was unfortunate, though, because at the same time Sherlock had never before been so troubled. Mycroft told their parents the good news, but decided his little brother was better off not knowing until the time was right.

Sherlock went into rehab for the first time due to an overdose the same day Abigail's water broke. Mycroft's parents assured him that it would be alright, to stay with the woman he'd proposed to just the month before. They would take care of Sherlock. Everything would be just fine.

Everything was not fine.

Abigail's heart gave out in the midst of the birth and despite the doctor's best efforts, it would not restart. Their child, a little girl they'd planned to name Eleanor, was still born. Mycroft's entire world fell apart before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop, no amount of power or influence that could have stood in the way. In that moment, the eldest Holmes boy swore he'd never care for another being again. It was too painful. Only his brother and his parents mattered now.

He went through his life with ruthless efficiency after that. He no longer concerned himself with what others thought, because it hardly mattered in the long run. All that mattered was making it through, protecting his own.

His relationship with his brother became more and more strained as the years passed. Sherlock never forgave him for leaving his younger brother behind, though he tried to cover it up as Mycroft being overbearing. For his part, Mycroft never told Sherlock about his almost sister-in-law and niece. There was no need. What would it help for Sherlock to know?

Then Sherlock met John, and Mycroft could see him forming attachments. He felt a trill of panic for the first time in years. He didn't want his brother to feel the pain that he had felt. And then Sherlock met that woman, Irene Adler. The eldest Holmes felt incredibly guilty for the part he had played in that meeting. He felt relieved when Sherlock identified her body on the examination table. At least things would be over before they had gone too far.

When Mycroft told his brother that caring was a weakness, that it was a defect found on the losing side, he meant it. What he hadn't told his brother was that Mycroft still felt the pain of Abigail's loss, of Eleanor's coming. Mycroft was always on the losing side and one day, he knew, he would lose Sherlock, too. That was the fact that scared him more than any other fate imaginable. So he told himself another truth. "All lives are lost, all hearts are broken." Somehow, it didn't make any of it better.


End file.
